To illustrate why I’m writing this post from Hawaii instead of the Underground/Man Cave World Headquarters, I’ll use a simple analogy involving these common, household items:

  • Your local supermarket
  • A pair of pants

Imagine getting behind the wheel of your car to drive to the supermarket, but before you turned the key, you suddenly realized you were stark naked.

Even the slightly-below-average among the Undergrounders would realize you could start the car, and you could even drive it, but because you weren’t wearing any pants, you couldn’t actually get out and shop.

Apparently, United Airlines isn’t even that smart.

After a four-hour delay, they flew a jet into Kona airport with the bare legal minimum of six flight attendants — one of whom then timed out (flight crews are only allowed to work a set number of hours).

“Gosh” the naked driver would say to himself. “I’d better get dressed before I leave the garage.”

By contrast, the naked people running things at United Airlines decided to strand us in an outdoor terminal for six hours, before — and this is the part that still brings tears of mirth to my eyes — we boarded the plane.

And sat for two more hot, stuffy, kinda fragrant hours.

It was at this point that the threat of airline jihad had grown too strong to ignore, and our Close, Personal Naked Friends at United finally got on the PA and admitted they weren’t wearing any pants.

And that we had as much chance of flying as Donald Trump had of becoming respectable.

Which leads us to the part that cemented our flight crew as world-class humorists.

After explaining their practical joke, the pilot said: “Now here’s the part you’re not going to like.”

(Because, you know — we were enjoying the hell out of the “we just wasted a day of your life” portion of the announcement.)

For a good-sized plane jammed with people, United only had 16 hotel rooms.

See? Naked and funny.

Fortunately, we still had a place to stay.

Tomorrow, United Airlines wants us back at 11:45.

Let’s hope they’re wearing pants.